by Kiera Silver
He touched it, for once missing his customary elusive expression. “Are you having a girl?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “She’ll have to have this, absolutely.” Her mouth curled. “This is the first thing I’ve bought her…well, it will be.”
His brown eyes warmed as he teased her. “I thought you mothers started buying from the moment you found out.”
She couldn’t hide her sad smile. “I did with my first pregnancy.”
“You have other children?”
Danika shook her head, wishing she hadn’t started the discussion, even as the words poured from her. “No. I…lost the baby after an… accident. He was a boy.” It was no accident, but she couldn’t bring herself to share the sordid details, although the cathartic sense of relief she experienced just by telling him a half-truth indicated she would find it beneficial to tell him everything. If she had been surer of Kane, more confident of a true bond building between them that was based on more than a physical attraction, she would have told him everything. But she had to be careful, knowing she would still be in the public eye for several months to come, until the investigation into Edmond’s death faded from the media’s radar. Anything she told anyone might appear in the next morning’s paper. He didn’t seem like the type of man to sell her out, but she didn’t really know Kane.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Thank you. Anyway, it made me cautious to purchase anything for this baby.” At ten weeks, when the CVS revealed a girl, she would have been reassured about her baby’s survival, if she had known then what she had discovered just weeks later—the revelation that had shattered her world.
With a determined effort, she cleared her mind of as many sad thoughts as possible and purchased a basketful of baby clothes, blankets, and accessories, feeling a sense of defiant victory as she did so. This baby would have everything her brother had been denied, and there was no one to stop Danika this time.
Chapter Three
Feeling lonely was an emotion foreign to Kane. Feeling anything, for that matter, was alien. It had been too long since he sealed himself off from the outside world to comfortably accept the feelings whirling through him. In an attempt to drive them away, he slid from the coolness of his silk sheets to pad into the kitchen. His naked flesh beaded with goose bumps at the chill in the air, and he shivered at the pleasant sensation, having always preferred cold to hot. Fortunately, the guesthouse provided for his use during his tenure as Danika’s private security guard afforded individual temperature controls in each room, so he could keep his bedroom a crisp sixty, while the kitchen was a more welcoming sixty-five.
The tile was cold under his feet, and he moved quickly to the refrigerator, where he liberated a quart of milk. Taking it with him, he moved to the large bay windows positioned over the dining nook. With his free hand, he raised the blinds, his eyes unerringly finding Danika’s window in the main house. For security purposes, he had been given a tour and floor plans of each room, much to Johnston’s resentment. The entire house was elegant and breathtaking, but only her room remained burned in his mind’s eye.
It was an homage to loneliness. Being that perceptive had disconcerted him, because he normally did his best to ignore anything that might stir his emotions, anything not crucial to an assignment. But, somehow, the pink and white room, with its Victorian decorations and silver accents, transmitted to him just how lonely Danika had been in her separate room adjoining the senator’s. The spacious bed had spoken of how inadequately one person could fill it, just as the careful arrangement of toiletries on the dressing table—all feminine—had told him of how isolated she was. It was clear she hadn’t enjoyed a close relationship with Edmond.
Maybe that’s why she had reached out to him earlier today, hungry with the need for a passionate touch. From her belly, it was obvious the senator must have visited her bed from time to time, but how much warmth had he brought with him? In the weeks preceding the assassination, when he followed Edmond to learn everything about him that he could, the other man hadn’t struck him as compassionate or caring. In fact, Kane had gotten the impression he was selfish, greedy, and cold.
His wife was anything but. The coldness of the window leached a bit of the heat from Kane’s skin when he propped his forehead against it, angling to still see her room, where a single light burned, even at three a.m. Was she awake, or was she just afraid of the dark?
That fanciful thought had Kane issuing a weak chuckle that sounded rusty from disuse. True that he hadn’t laughed much since Melissa was murdered, and the ability to do so often caught him by surprise.
He felt no real amusement in this instance though. Danika was a mystery, and perhaps it hadn’t been so fanciful to imagine she slept with a light on, to ward off whatever might come after her in the dark. She could be frightened of whoever killed her husband, fearing he had returned to finish the job. Little did she know, he did not intend to kill her. “Just fuck you senseless,” he said under his breath, before taking a swig of the milk he had held in his hand, forgotten until then.
By tipping his head back to drink, his eyes moved higher up the house, catching a glimpse of movement he might not have noticed otherwise. Kane put the milk on the table and reached for the binoculars he had left there the evening before. Although tempted, he had restrained himself from using them to peek into her window earlier, before he went to bed. Now, he was thankful his conscience had nearly lost, leading him to remove them from the night table where he normally kept them. Disgust with himself had led to tossing them onto the table, thus preventing him from following his usual habits of organization that involved returning things to their spots.
He used the fortuitous binoculars to hone in on the movement he had detected. Kane strained to make out what had caught his attention seconds ago, and patience was rewarded a moment later, when he saw a figure in black lowering themselves with caution, inch by inch, from the roof, down the side of the house.
Acting on instinct, he dropped the binoculars and went racing to the sleeping area. With one hand, he grabbed jeans, while stretching to reach the intercom button that connected him to Danika’s room with the other. It buzzed three times before her she answered, sounding sleepy. “Yes?”
“Get out right now. There’s an intruder outside your window. Leave your room as fast as you can.”
He didn’t wait for her response, releasing the button so he could zip and button his jeans. As he shoved his feet into sneakers, Kane lifted a shirt from the hamper and shrugged it on, not caring about cleanliness right then. His last stop in the bedroom was to retrieve his gun and a walkie-talkie from the drawer in the nightstand.
The soles of his shoes slapped against the tile in the kitchen as he rushed for the door. While he ran, Kane turned on the walkie-talkie, getting an immediate response from one of the two operatives in the guardhouse. “There’s an intruder at the house, heading down the side toward Mrs. Rich’s bedroom.”
“Copy, sir. We’ll meet you up there.”
“Buzz me into the main house first.” It would be quicker to have them do so than fumble with the swipe card that might or might not be in his jeans. He only hoped they had heard his request before rushing off to meet him.
They must have, because the door swung open easily when he charged up the front stairs, prepared to break through if necessary. His overcompensation caused him to stumble, but he regained his balance before he could fall on the marble floor of the foyer.
Caution took over, and he examined the room to ensure there weren’t two intruders. He gripped the M-1911 Novak in his right hand, his thumb poised to click off the safety. The semi-automatic .45 provided comfort and a measure of confidence as he ascended the stairs, moving as quietly as he could, hoping to catch the intruder off-guard.
All chance of surprise disappeared when the two security operatives from the guardhouse came crashing through the front door, yelling, “Freeze.”
With a smothered curse, Kane spun around, hold
ing out the pistol to show it wasn’t aimed at them. “It’s me.” He didn’t bother to soften his voice, just as he didn’t wait for their response. He turned back to face the stairs and rushed up them, giving up on ambush and hoping just for capture of the trespasser.
He found Danika’s room unerringly, shoving open the door and dropping low to the right at the same time. No shots issued from the room, and he eased around the doorway, holding out the pistol in front of him. The sole lamp burning on her nightstand provided enough illumination to reveal the room was empty, unless the would-be assailant was hiding in the closet or en suite bathroom.
When the two guards caught up with him, hovering outside the door, Kane said, “One of you go to the roof, and the other to the ground. Let’s see if we can capture the intruder before he escapes.” As he spoke, his eyes darted constantly between the closet and bathroom.
When the two guards departed, he moved with precise steps toward the closet first, taking care to ensure the thick carpet muted each step. It was a sliding-door style, and he gripped the concave handle, sliding it back as he stepped out of the range of any weapon that might be waiting him on the other side. He eased his head around, pistol extended, while sliding his other hand up the outside wall, to flick on the light. The closet was big enough to house a family of three, but also so spacious and well organized that there were no crannies for the interloper to hide.
Kane moved on to the bathroom, opening the door with caution, although not expecting to find anything. If the person trying to break in was here to do more than rob the place—and what self-respecting burglar robbed a house with on-site security personnel, just weeks after the owner was assassinated—chances were good it was a professional, like him. Said pro wouldn’t stick around, hoping to avoid discovery. Unless Tweedle Dumb or Dumber had managed to stop the intruder, they were already vapor, gone without a trace.
His hunch proved to be correct when he found the massive bathroom free of anyone. Kane checked the marble shower stall, finding no one hiding there, but arching a brow at the pink and silver levers that screamed delicate femininity. He touched one, imagining bracing Danika against the wall, while she propped her feet on the faucet, her shapely ass positioned between the two handles.
Blinking, he stepped away from the shower, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand. He needed to assure himself Danika was safe, and he left the bedroom with that single purpose in mind, leaving the guards outside to chase down the intruder, who was probably long gone.
The hallway offered a dizzying array of doors to choose from, so he cleared his throat and called her name, to save time and the need to knock on each door.
Seconds later, two doors down from her own room, Danika stuck her head out, looking right at him. Her olive skin was ashen, and her lips trembled, betraying her fear.
“It’s all right. You can come out now.” He kept his tone deliberately soothing, while hiding the pistol against his leg. Kane extended his other hand, and she left the room where she had taken refuge with the wary air of a rabbit smelling a fox. Her steps were slow and hesitant as she made her way to him, and he met her halfway, taking her shaking hand in his.
“What happened?”
Before he could answer, a door further down the hall opened. Stephanie flounced out, wearing a negligee so sexy that he was embarrassed to look at her. She was over the age of consent, but there was something very childlike in the girl, which she seemed to deliberately cultivate, keeping her blonde hair in fat ringlets, her cheeks tinged a rosy pink, while eschewing all other forms of makeup. Yet, the way she moved and acted was such a drastic contrast that it turned his stomach. She seemed like a young girl playing the seductress. Some men might find the combination intriguing, but he wasn’t one of them.
“What’s going on?”
“We had an intruder—”
She clearly wasn’t listening as he tried to explain. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on their joined hands, and her lips curled into a frown. Her blue eyes glittered with rage, and her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “That’s nice, you slut. Daddy’s only been dead two weeks, and you’re already moving on.” Moving with a dramatic twist that looked painful, she turned her back on them and stomped back into her room, slamming the door as hard as she could.
A long sigh issued from Danika, but she didn’t release his hand. In fact, she stepped closer, seemingly trying to absorb enough strength from him to quiet the tremors still shaking her body. Even through the bulky terrycloth robe, Kane could feel the curve of her breast and the brush of her stomach. He groaned under his breath, saved from doing anything rash in the hallway by the crackle of his walkie-talkie.
“Mr. Winter, there’s no sign of the intruder. Gary and I checked out the locations you assigned. We did find a grappling hook and nylon rope affixed to the roof, but nothing else.”
“Understood.” He wasn’t surprised, but still experienced disappointment, having hoped to corner whoever had sneaked onto the estate and ascertain their motives. The optimistic side of his nature, rarely allowed free rein, hoped it had been an overly zealous reporter. The pessimistic side, the one that ruled most of his thoughts and decisions, didn’t find that likely. Still, it was the reassurance he planned to offer Danika, until or unless he learned differently.
She leaned against him, sagging with relief. “It’s over?”
“Yes.” He put an arm around her, pulling her close. Kane intended to see her back to her room, but allowed himself the small indulgence of just holding her against him for a long second, before guiding her to her door.
As they stepped into her room, she looked up at him. “Do you know who it was? What they wanted?”
He shook his head. “Probably just a reporter.”
Danika wore a dubious frown, but appeared to not want to hear more dire possibilities. “Yeah, I guess.” She shivered, her eyes falling on the window the perpetrator hadn’t opened. “I’m still scared though. I don’t know if I can sleep.”
“Shall I stay with you for a while?”
She licked the corner of her lip in a way that never failed to kick-start his heart rate. The action was both adorable and arousing. The sight of her pink tongue just stimulated him, making him yearn to have it run down the length of his body.
Once again, his thoughts had strayed into dangerous territory, and he was thankful for her soft, “Yes,” that intruded, scattering the erotic images forming in his mind. However, staying with her did nothing to remove the temptation of making love with her. But what kind of bastard would become lovers with the wife of a man he had killed? His conscience pricked at the thought, and Kane found himself wishing the long-quiet voice of ethics had stayed silenced.
When Danika settled into bed, drawing the pink and silver comforter up before removing her robe, his mouth watered. When the terrycloth appeared from underneath the covers, his breath stilled in his throat, waiting to see if she had been nude underneath. He released a harsh exhalation seconds later when he saw the white flannel top she wore. Odds were, she had matching pajama pants on too, so he didn’t have to torture himself with thoughts of her nudity while he sat with her.
She turned her head to look at him, her silver eyes shadowed with fatigue and fear. Her lips opened, as if she was about to speak, but then she closed her mouth with a soft click, seeming not to want to talk after all.
Kane settled into a hardback chair he took from the writing desk, placing it near her bed. Near enough to touch her, in fact. He could reach out to hold her hand, or slip under the covers and cup her breasts. A groan almost escaped him, but he smothered it in time, forcing his back against the rigid seat, hoping the delicate design of swirls would gouge through his skin and put some sense into him.
He let the silence fill the room, and it lulled him into a near trance. Images of Danika’s body, spread across the bed, flashed through his mind, igniting his desire again. His cock swelled against the confines of his jeans, and the rough denim provided enough stimulat
ion to be torturous, making him wish he had taken the time to add briefs before running to Danika’s rescue.
“Kane?”
Her soft voice made him blink, and for a moment, he saw the picture of her in his mind superimposed over her when he glanced down. He blinked again, struggling to dismiss the phantom Danika, who enticed him in a way he had never experienced before. “Yes?”
“Are you angry about what happened yesterday afternoon?”
Kane’s eyes widened. “No, of course not.” He shifted, discomforted by the topic. Part of him had hoped she would embrace the idea of forgetting it ever happened, while another part of him, just reawaking to emotion, couldn’t wait for her to initiate contact again. That unaccustomed side of him was trying to lead him into seducing the woman he had told himself he was only there to protect, and only because she reminded him of his sister.
“But you wish I hadn’t reached out to you?” Although phrased as a question, her resigned tone indicated she had already arrived at an answer.
“I didn’t say that.” What had he said? Nothing. As soon as he fled the dressing room, he had schooled his features to hide any trace of emotion and had maintained careful distance between them for the rest of the afternoon.
Her gaze was intense when it locked with his. “I don’t believe you. If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have withdrawn into yourself.”
A long sigh escaped him. Staring down at her, searching for an answer, Kane ran a hand through his short hair, disturbing the locks further. “Look, Danika, it isn’t you—“
A harsh laugh issued from her, holding little amusement. “That means it is me.”
He shook his head. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be crazy not to want you. I’m just not accustomed to what I’m feeling.” Kane shook his head again, frustrated by his inability to articulate what he meant. “Usually, it’s just sex for me. One night, maybe two, and we part. I don’t feel things for the women I take to bed. Can you understand that?”
